


Dancing with your ghost

by dunneltag879



Series: Disassociated Love [2]
Category: Red Robin (Comics), Superboy (Comics)
Genre: Dancing, Fluff, M/M, Poor Tim Drake, Sad, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Timkon, post death kon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:40:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27410590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dunneltag879/pseuds/dunneltag879
Summary: Kon’s soft hums and angelic voice seemed to cause all the pain and fears retreat further into Tim’s mind. He didn’t have to fall apart now, he could stop letting the mourning consume him for just a few moments as he allowed himself to be held.OrTim was desperate to see Kon again. So desperate that even hallucinating him was worth it. Only, disassociation can only lead to emptiness and longing.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent
Series: Disassociated Love [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2002585
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	Dancing with your ghost

11:46 am

All the next day Tim became completely and utterly obsessed. Obsessed with seeing Kon again, obsessed with being held again and following a drifting kiss. It was unhealthy to say the least. 

The manor was silent just as before. Unlike Wayne manor, the walls didn’t scream in the same way. Wayne manor trapped old souls and gothic emotions, Drake manor was just it’s plastic replica. Fake, cheap and overdone. In other words, both manors captured their inhabitants (both past and present) flawlessly. 

Tim made his rounds through the Barbie house, investigating every room, closet and crevice as if he’d never lived there, as if he wasinvestigating a crime scene. That was one phrase for it: ‘crime scene’. After all, countless bickering and abuse used to flood the walls to exhaust. Maybe Janet and Jack should rot.  ~~ Maybe Tim should too.  ~~

When it came down to it, they were all useless. All of them arrogant and spoiled  rotten gothamites who were always far from honest in the public eye. Lies. Is that what Gotham’s elite has come to? Tim blamed it on the superiority complexes each and every one of them held. Him, Janet, Jack, hell, even Bruce Wayne. Arrogance came with the gold. 

***

4:07 pm

Champagne wasn’t worth it in the daylight. It tasted dryer, lonelier. Fuck. He’d have to find the wine...

The boy sat at the long dining room table. He stared down to the other side, feeling like it stretched on for miles. The table could easily seat twelve people, maybe fourteen of you decided guests didn’t need much room. 

Tim had always been in the background, sometimes standing off to the side, quiet in the corner like a good little boy when his parents had “ _ friends _ ” over. Other times, he got to sit at the table, typically squished between pudgy women who liked to pinch his cheeks and ask him about girls he liked, or between perverted men who didn’t acknowledge the boy, yet tended to see how far up his leg they could reach. Not once had he been at the head of the table. Needless to say, Tim felt like royalty here. No wonder it got to their heads. 

Riches are an illusion.

Breaking rules was much more boring now. Sure, he was sitting at the head of the table, drinking more of his mother’s champagne and resting his feet on the table, talking as much as he damned pleased, only it still didn’t feel the same. Because what was teenage rebellion when everyone was dead and buried? Also, what was teenage rebellion as an emancipated minor? 

*****

2:00 am

Two a.m. lovesick. Had a nice ring to it. 

Tim’s phone embraced unread calls and messages. It consisted mainly of Dick’s worried calls and texts demanding as to why he hasn’t shown up for patrol or even so much as checked in with Oracle, but also weary messages from Cassie. Her texts were what made Tim feel guilty. She’d probably assume he’d gone off the deep end. He probably will. Maybe he already has?

Maybe sitting at the top of the marble steps with a half downed bottle of wine, armored in another luxurious fur coat and his mother’s pearls was  the  definition of going off the deep end. Maybe he like it there. Either way, Cassie doesn’t deserve as much loss as Tim was experiencing.

Maybe Cassie was strong enough, though. She had other friends, right? Cassie was trained by Wonder Woman, granddaughter to a demigod. Certainly she couldn’t,  _ wouldn’t _ cripple to grief the way Tim has. 

No, she didn’t deserve that. Sure, Cassie may be able to handle loss, but it didn’t mean she needed it. 

“Tim?” The blonde picked up on the second ring. Calling her back was only the right thing to do. “Tim? Where have you been? We’ve all been worried sick. You said you were heading back to Gotham yesterday and I came by your apartment this morning and you weren’t at any of them. Where are you? Do I need to come get you? Are you okay?” 

The robin groaned, his body cringing at the loud voice over the phone. He sighed. “Yeah...I’m okay, Cassie, really. I’m at Drake manor...you don’t have to come pick me up, really it’s okay I’m just going to stay the night,” his voice hiccuped at the last part, slurred through the whole explanation even. 

Silence filled the line, causing Tim to feel hollowed out inside like a carved pumpkin., with fresh orange guts and squishy new emotions. 

“Tim.” 

“Cassie?”

“You’re drunk?”

Her tall voice seemed to bounce off cavernous walls. Tim took another gulp of wine, as if he could repress her concerns the same way he repressed his emotions. 

“...yeah,” the boy pinched the bridge of his nose. She had every right to be upset. “Look, Cassie. I’m selling the house next month and the realtor wanted everything out by this upcoming week. This is my childhood home, I’m just a bit nostalgic,” 

He hated that house. Everyone knew that. The house of sorrow and desperation.  ~~ The house of rot.  ~~

“...you promise you’ll be back tomorrow?” 

“If I’m not back by noon you can come over and personally get me, okay?”

There was a figure at the bottom of the stairs, hunched over to sit. Tim drowned out the rest of the conversation from there. It was a boy. A little boy. He wore a red shirt, a bright yellow cape and green pixie boots. 

“...hey, Cass I gotta go, I’ll see you tomorrow,” 

“Tim!” 

The two boys were eye to eye now. Maybe this was the most frightening one, yet somehow the most hopeful? 

“Robin,” Tim gaped, staring at the little boy in disbelief, “Jason.” 

The robin smiled. He looked sad, heartbroken and torn. Quite familiar. He didn’t say a word, either. 

“Is Kon here?” Tim tilted his head. After all, if robin was here, why not superboy too?

The robin just stared. He refused to speak, that or couldn’t. Maybe Tim’s conscious had a hard Tim conjuring up an interaction with the robin. Maybe that’s what happens when you only watch someone from afar. Unlike Robin, Tim  knew Kon. He knew everything about him from the odd positions he chooses to sleep, to the small ticks that get him frustrated, even the soft words that fill his blue eyes with joy. 

Tim took another sip of wine, the bottle only a quarter full now. “It’s an honor and all to finally meet you, but I was hoping to see someone else,” the words rolled off his tongue slowly. Was he even talking anymore? 

Maybe he was dead. Maybe Tim had took a tumble down the stairs and fell a little too hard...

“Well? Are you going to say something or are you just going to stand there?” He hissed. The little boy startled. 

Soon, the sound of pixie boots running down the corridors echoed in the high ceilings. Tim’s running accompanied it. 

“Hey! What do you want? Where’s Kon!” 

*****

3:52 a.m.

For whatever reason Tim was outside now, standing on his old second floor balcony. 

He leaned against the rail, peering out at the gardens below, a fresh wine bottle in his hand. 

No Kon. No more Robin. 

It was brutal, really, the way his mind liked to torture him. He saw what he wanted to see, only not at every time he wished. 

“Come on!” The boy screamed, head turned up to the sky, “this is unfair! Just let me see him! Just one last time!” his face scrunched, tears flowing like rivers down his rosy cheek. 

“Please, I’ll do anything, give-“ 

Tim tensed. He could feel his feet slipping and legs crippling into a downward parabola. 

His eyes were opened all the way now, opened wide as if pried apart by stingy fingers. He attempted to ground himself in anyway possible, throwing a shallow arm out to grasp the rail, another downward to break his fall. 

Then, it all came to a sort of halt. 

“Never thought I’d hear the Timothy Drake plead like that,” 

“Conner!” Tim gasped. He’d never pushed himself into someone’s arms as fast as he did then. It was like heat fluttered in his chest, flooding his body and veins with pure internal joy and an overload of emotions. 

“It’s only been a night, how desperate can you be?” Kon wrapped his friend up in his warm, the smaller boy sinking into a pure bliss. He grasped the wine bottle, swirling the inhabitants carefully before placing the amber tinted bottle on the railing. “Jesus, Tim, one would think you’re an alcoholic. Drink anymore of that and you’ll get alcohol poisoning.” 

Tim pulled himself in close, wrapping his arm securely around his beloved. Then he eagerly crashed their lips together, sending Kon back a step or two.

The kryptonian, as surprised as he was, kissed back almost immediately. His thumb tugged at Tim’s chin gently as he tilted into rapture. 

“Fuck, mystery boy, you’re not really leaving room for conversation, are you?” Kon smiled once the pair separated. He toyed with the fur coat just as he had the night before, twisting the soft hide between his index and thumb. 

Tim scanned his face, both with his hands and eyes. He felt from the sharp line of Kon’s jaw, up across his rough lips and through his tight curls. “Sorry, I just...” he started, eyes squinted almost in concentration. “Guess I didn’t think I’d see you again? I just reacted I suppose...” Tim’s eyes fell with his voice. He seemed to be trailing off into some unknown void. 

“Let’s get you inside,” was all the kryptonian said. He gave him a look of pity as he ushered him indoors, into the (somewhat) warmer manor. 

Tim held on tight still, knuckles white and face flushed. He looked like shit. Almost as though he was spiraling through the seven stages of grief for the hundredth time in a row. 

“Hey,” Kon was grinning at his Barbie boy. Their fingers entwined as he led him further into the bedroom, more so into the cleared area. “Let’s dance,” 

“I don’t dance, Conner,” Tim snapped, watching the kryptonian carefully as he pushed furniture back, expanding the open space with each effortless push. 

“Sure you do, Rob,” Kon waltzed back over to his prince, hand extended as he bowed, grinning widely, “may I have this dance?” 

Tim bit his lip, rolling his eyes playfully. “Fuck you, Conner Kent,” he swore, smile just as wide as his partner’s. 

Kon pulled him in when he finally took his hand. Their fingers laced once more, Kon’s opposite arm slipping around Tim’s waist, and his clutching the back of Kon’s neck. 

They swayed then, only to Tim, it felt like more than that, it felt as if they were soaring. Their feet matched a perfect rhythm, breath in sync. 

“ _Like a river flows, surely to the sea, darling so it goes~_ ” Kon sung out softly, nearly as a hum. It wasn’t anticipated, but after all, what was dancing without a bit of music? 

Kon’s soft hums and angelic voice seemed to cause all the pain and fears retreat further into Tim’s mind. He didn’t have to fall apart now, he could stop letting the mourning consume him for just a few moments as he allowed himself to be held. 

It felt so real, so right. He felt invincible, now that Kon was here. It was all broken before, all crushed and shattered. With him, though, Tim didn’t need to be broken. He could be while, he could be beautiful and he could be happy. 

The couple twirled and spun, gliding effortlessly till they found peace in the center of the room, kissing once more. 

Now they were nothing but a sway, a soft hindering shift from side to side. It was fairly content though. Tim had never felt so heavenly and light headed. He grasped at Kon’s jaw, tilting him down and pushed the two of them significantly closer. 

“ _ God _ , please tell me this is real,” Tim prayed upon pulling away. He smiled up at the superboy, who stared back just as—maybe even a bit more—lovingly. 

“You can call it what you’d like, wonder boy,” the meta chuckled in amusement. He kept hold of Tim’s hand, using so to twirl him a round a full 360 in a slow and rather savory motion. 

“I wish we could have this everyday,” Tim continued, feeling a hand back at his waist as they continued their deliberate waltz. 

Kon sighed in a moment of concentration, this wasn’t healthy for his mind to drag him on this way. What would the  _ real _ Kon say if he saw this? His best friend associating them dancing in the abandoned manor, kissing and touching and whispering to one another. “I know you do, Tim, but-“

“Do you not wish the same?” 

“ _Tim_ ,” The  kryptonian huffed, almost in a way to say ‘ _ that isn’t fair and you know it _ ’ 

“I know, I know this isn’t real, this is just my mind. I just...Kon I’m in love with you. You don’t understand, I don’t just  want this to be real, I  need this to be real. 

Tears threatened the boundary of the Robin’s eyes now, blue drowning in salt rightfully so. 

“Tim.” 

“No, Kon. You don’t get it. I  _ need _ this. I can’t do it without you. I’m going fucking insane. I mean, look at this! Look at you! You’re here! How is my mind so far gone and screwed up that it’s causing me to see things? See people? I’m hallucinating and I don’t want to believe it,” Tim choked, staring at the boy in utter desperation. What good is even is your head to comfort your own mind though? “I can touch you! Feel you! Kiss you! Why do you feel so real!” 

The pale boy was full on sobbing now, hiccuping nearly every other word out. Why hadn’t he had this problem with Janet? Or Robin? Or more of a reaction to Steph? There would be no coming back from this. He’d gone too far. Maybe  this was what dying felt like. Maybe he shouldn’t have drank one and a half bottles of wine. 

*****

6:27 a.m. 

It was as if bubblegum closed his throat. Breathing felt somewhat harder, the more he tried, the shorter it seemed to get. 

They laid sprawled out on the couch in the sitting room again. This time, Tim was curled up sitting on Kon’s lap, the two of them wrapped in a heavy quilt. 

He had given in. Given into his miserably twisted mind, into his sorrows. All for Kon, or maybe against? Either way, Tim felt content yet again in the strong sense of his so called lover. 

Kon was humming again, this time a different tune, something rougher and more upbeat, yet quiet enough to allow him to be seduced by sleep. 

So, he did. Tim closed his eyes in Conner’s arms for what would be the final time, his heart steady but his lungs ready to burst. Fingers tangled in his messy hair. 

_ “Sleep tight, wonder boy,” _

****

1:08 p.m.

Cassie was the last person Tim expect to see when he opened his eyes, and a hospital bed was the least expected voltage for him to wake up in. There was no denying either, so the only question was why was he hospitalized and why did Cassie appear so pissed. 

“what?” Tim asked, his raspy voice reeking of sleep.

“What? Really? That’s all you have to say? Don’t you remember  _ anything _ from last night?” She was certainly pissed, glaring sharp daggers at the raven haired boy. 

Tim pondered for a moment. He thought about seeing Kon, dancing with the love of his life, and falling asleep blissfully in his arms yet again for the second night in a row. Then, he remembered their fight, he remembered his worries as he drifted off to sleep. None of that was real, none of that happened. Meaning, no one caught him when he drank one too many bottles of wine and fell backwards on the balcony. So naturally, “ _fuck_ ,” was all the boy could manage. 

“Yeah. ‘Fuck’ is right Tim.” 

“Cassie, what happened last night?” 

“Well, you know whatever the hell happened last night. This morning though, I texted you till about nine thirty, then I decided since you weren’t replying or picking up the phone I should probably head over here. So, I did. And there you were. Passed out on the balcony upstairs. Luckily your alcohol poisoning was minor,” 

That explains the glare. He could have died last night, nearly drank himself to death. Tim felt a great deal of pain in his chest as he looked up at her. He studied the way her golden hair was chopped short and pinned back with colorful pins and barrettes. “I’m sorry,” he apologized hoarsely. 

****

The next night he fell asleep as comfortably as he could in the hard hospital bed. He was held then as well, only by Cassie instead of Kon. She wrapped her arms around Tim tightly, falling asleep with him there post crying session and discussion of how horribly alcohol mixes with a missing spleen. That wasn’t what mattered though. What did matter, was the two of them. 

Tim finally fell asleep contentedly in someone else’s arms, and for real this time too. He was happy and truly loved now, no more tricks of the light or manipulative of the mind. This was real, this was real love and true friendship. 

He’d prefer to stay like this for a while. 

**Author's Note:**

> How many people caught the Elvis lyric? You simply cannot have a dance scene without Elvis 😌
> 
> Thanks for reading!! Just a reminder that I appreciate everyone who regularly read my works you guys are real ones ❤️
> 
> Tumblr: @klariwitch


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